


Clipping Wings

by Brynnen, TwaCorbies (Brynnen)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Adventure, Explosions, Fighting, First Order training is very thorough, Gen, Hux might be prone to micromanaging, Hux's stream of consciousness is very judgy, Hux/sleep, LOTS of violence, RY5231 is totally a brummie, Snoke's idea of good plans does not coincide with anyone else's definition of a good plan, grumbling, hux/sleep is my OTP, light Kylux, other rebel factions, severed hands, space swearing, the First Order is used to it, the Rebels are a loose affiliation of organisations with wildly varying ideologies and approaches, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-16 05:27:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynnen/pseuds/Brynnen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynnen/pseuds/TwaCorbies
Summary: Hux is surrounded by idiots, both on his and the other side.The Supreme Leader's latest plan makes Ren's deranged plotting look sane, but Hux has got a blaster, one of Phasma's troopers and an unrelenting hatred for the rebels.





	1. Chapter 1

Hux let his hand drop from the crisp salute he'd been holding and allowed a sneer to cross his face. This whole scheme had Major Murtagh's fingerprints all over it, he'd have assumed the Supreme Leader's apprentice was also involved if he wasn't all too aware at how incapable the man was of working well with others. He'd certainly approve of any scheme that seemed likely to entail Hux getting seven shades of drek beaten out of him. Ren's inability to cooperate aside, Murtagh may well see the interior of a reconditioning booth when he got back from this mission if she didn't learn greater subtlety or better discipline.

  
What kind of karking stupid plan was 'let the General get captured' anyway? There was no way deliberately putting someone with his amount of inside knowledge of the Order into enemy hands could possibly go wrong! Hux rolled his eyes at the sarcasm he kept carefully unvocalised. The Supreme Leader was evidently curious to see just what lengths he would go to in order to secure a face-to-face meeting to pitch the idea for his latest weapon, the Starkiller. Just the thought of his finest creation sent a thrill through him - it would advance the First Order's plans so rapidly it would have made a lesser officer giddy!

Enough of that indulgence though. He rearranged his desk, stacking flimsies and datatabs neatly; one pile relating to the day to day running of Finaliser, another for the various engineering projects he'd been working on, a third dedicated to troop reports, personnel files and general admin and the final pile related to longer term planning. Should he be killed on this mission, even the most wet-behind-the-ears newly promoted general should be able to continue his work in service of the First Order.

  
That completed he glanced across the room, to the open door leading to his bed, considered it and then dismissed the thought. His sleep debt was sufficiently high that a mere hour's sleep wouldn't dent it and he'd just feel groggy and witless. He'd have a good solid sleep when he got back, he'd have earnt it then.

  
He proceeded through to the fresher instead and, dropping his breeches, delivered three consecutively timed doses of combat stims into an area of muscle not already black and blue from prior doses. Frankly if the mission lasted longer than the sixty hours of alertness he'd just ensured then his chances of survival approached zero anyway. This particular rebel faction (Falcon's Wing, he recalled the name) were notoriously poor at keeping their captive enemies alive.

Hux snorted to himself as he hands moved efficiently to clean and charge both blasters. And the rebel scum presumed that they had some nebulous moral superiority over the First Order! Disgusting. He'd always loathed hypocrisy and theirs made him want to throw up his rations. Wait. That was just the stims getting to work - nausea was common when one's belly had seen naught but indifferent caf and pints of thich tarine tea all shift. He probably ought to have a nutrient pack to fuel the activities he would shortly be undertaking.

Having refuelled his body and weapons, Hux saw little point in lingering within his quarters and, datatab in hand, strode out to the lift that would take him down to the hangar housing the smaller transports.

  
Captain Phasma saluted as he stepped out of the lift and he looked up from the mission particulars to acknowledge her. Her squad would be the one to storm the enemy ship to retrieve him should he fail to extract himself and there was no other stormtrooper commander he trusted more thoroughly with the operation, with his life. He returned her salute crisply.

  
'Happy hunting, Hux.' The smile was audible through her helmet, perhaps not to most people, but Hux knew her, knew she was keyed up with anticipation. They'd been in space too long for her tastes; troop exercises kept the troopers sharp, but she was hungry for action.

  
'I'd promise to leave you something to mop up, but...' He shrugged.

  
She gave a sharp bark of laughter at the joke, seemingly genuinely pleased with the dark humour. 'Plenty more rebel scum to suppress if you can't help yourself, Sir.' She replied comfortingly.

  
'Indeed.' Phasma knew a dismissal when she heard one and clicked her heels courteously before returning to her duties.

  
He waited by the allotted light transport, continuing with the latest batch of the never-ending reports. He was starting to make headway on the virtual stack of personnel reviews when he heard approaching footsteps.

  
'Sir!'

  
Hux returned the salutes of the sergeant stormtrooper assigned as his personal guard for the mission and the nervy-looking Flight-Lieutenant who'd drawn the short straw of piloting this doomed sortie. Not that she knew it was doomed, they'd be scraping high-strung pilot off the ceiling if she'd got wind of that particular detail. Behind them, deeper within the vast hangar he could see Ren, Supreme Leader's wretched apprentice, preparing his own non-Order vessel for departure. Given his role was to make sure Hux' transport was crippled if the rebels couldn't manage even that simple task, Hux just knew the bastard was going to enjoy himself.

  
'Pre-flight checks complete?' he asked the pilot, a mere slip of an officer who looked barely detached from her mother's apron-strings.

  
'Yes Sir!' She had conviction in that at least.

  
'Then prepare for take-off.' He kept his voice calm, the usual brisk note of a man with a thousand other things to be doing infusing his tone.

  
It seemed to calm the pilot's nervousness at transporting such a high-ranking officer through the battle raging outside. Their failure to reach safety was going to be a great disappointment to her. Hux met the sergeant's eye and saw the man's own misgivings about the pilot's youth. With a nod they silently agreed to attempt to shield her from the worst of what would soon entail.

  
He kept his eyes fixed on his datatab, working briskly as the ship bucked and jolted across the space between Finaliser and the asteroid station the pilot had been instructed to take them to. Partly he worked because there was still so much to do and was acutely aware of just how much valuable working time he was about to lose, but mainly he worked in case these particular rebels had intel on his obsessive working habits. If they had even a passing understanding of his working habits then his datatab having been last accessed an hour ago might tip them off hat something wasn't right.

  
The ship lurched sideways and the pilot let out a panicked yell. 'We're hit, we're hit! Request assistance!' She screamed into the radio as she fought to regain control of the craft, rebalancing the power ratios to account for the damaged engine.

  
There was another series of impacts, the craft doing a barrel-roll as the Flight-Lieutenant protected the remaining thrusters by taking the blows on the fusillage. Hux and the Sergeant readied their weapons for the inevitable boarding party even as the pilot struggled on futilely.

  
'Stay back, Flight-Lieutenant; the Sergeant and I will deal with this scum!' He felt the rage rising within him, riding the hot wave of fury and letting it galvanise him into hatred of every last son of a bantha that dared impede the great will of the First Order.

  
Beside him the Sergeant readied his own weapon, a rifle with greater stopping power, but lower firing speed than his own twin blaster pistols. These scum would have to earn the chance to get their hands on him even temporarily. Yes, there was the edge of battle-madness he needed to sharpen his reflexes and dull any vestigial traces of squeamishness or mercy he might still have.

  
The first wave is picked off easily, an assortment of overconfident fools who think they've got him just where they want him and Hux sneers in righteous glee as they fall before his and the sergeant's assault.

Behind them the pilot suddenly lets out a breathy cry of pain as a bolt flies past Hux' ear and he winces at the wet gurgle the cry transforms into. Unlucky shot to the throat and he listens to her struggle to breathe through the blood and pain that carries her life away. The poor little milksop hadn't stood a chance and that only heightened his fury.

  
Time seemed to compress and dilate weirdly in the close-quarters firefight and Hux felt like he'd been fighting for hours when they next lucky shot happened, catching him on the left arm with a force that nearly spun him around and wrenched the pistol from a suddenly useless hand.

  
A fountain of curses erupted from him and he screamed obscenities at the still-coming traitors, dimly aware of how unhinged he sounded. The remaining sensible part of his mind hoped that he was selling the 'not going quietly' part of the plan, or was he overdoing it? It was too late to step back from it now though so he let the vitriol he usually kept locked behind gritted teeth spill out, tumbling from his tongue derangedly. The stims were certainly working and the newest wave seemed genuinely frightened of him.

  
He was sent careening backwards by an impact his light tactical vest mostly absorbed, cracking his head hard on something as he fell. Stars danced in his vision as he fought to stand back up again, but then the sergeant let out a grunt of pain and fell too. They were caught.

  
The Rebel ship disengaged from the smouldering wreck that had been the General's transport and Kylo Ren sensed the distinctive force presence of Hux was on the Rebel craft. He smiled grimly, the bastard was still alive and Kylo was looking forward to seeing how pissed off the uptight bastard was going to be when he, hated Knight of Ren, Disruptor of the peaceful running of Finaliser and wrecker of the First Order's maintenance budget rescued the prissy sod.

  
He reached out with the force to his Master's mind. 'It is done, Supreme Leader. The General is captured.'

  
'Excellent. You may join the rescue mission, should one be required.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - this chapter is the one in which the torture happens. It's pretty grim, so if you're feeling sensitive, maybe give this a miss.

He was too groggy to take detailed mental notes on the ship he was bundled onto, or the larger vessel he was bodily dragged through the corridors of, still reeling and feeling sick as he squinted through the bloody inconvenient dancing starscape his vision remained adorned with.

  
He was thrown into a chair, his arms cuffed behind his back. He was thrown with so much force he nearly tumbled straight out of the chair, but one of the rebel heavies grabbed the collar of his uniform and dragged him back into place.

  
'Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, General.'

  
Wow, had these idiots taken their interrogation playbook from the karking holovids? Cheap holovids at that? Incredulity momentarily silenced him.

'It's gonna be like that, huh?' The rebel 'interrogating' him said, squaring her shoulders in a vain attempt to look more imposing. It must have been the cheapest of holovids, the kind that enthralled children and the lower-rated stormtroopers.

'Are you going to offer to torture... uh...' He made a point of pausing to search his memory for the stormtrooper's designation before giving up, 'the Sergeant in hopes of distressing me into giving up information?'

That got him backhanded across the face and gained him the full attention of all rebels present. Good, he kept it up, delivering a few more pithy insults and going back and forth with the interrogator in a disagreement that devolved into 'Rebel scum!' versus 'Imperial monster!' It at least gave the sergeant the opportunity to free up a lock-pick or to try and steal something to act as one.

The initial beating was far more restrained than he'd expected given the Falcon's Wing's reputation. The heavies hauled him to his feet and used him as a punching bag, keeping their blows below shoulder height. Keeping the sergeant present for the whole beating was a nice touch, he acknowledged wryly as a particularly harsh blow to his solar plexus doubled him over. They were presumably trying to humiliate him - as if a mere Stormtrooper a) had any intel worth knowing or b) was so soft-hearted that the mere sight of a general being knocked about would loosen his tongue. Precious.

As to his own tolerances, even Captain-level interrogation training had been worse than this and it had only intensified, become more thorough as he'd advanced through the ranks. If this was the calibre of work to be expected then he might die of sheer ennui before anything of note passed his lips. Frankly Snoke's gentlest reproaches (let alone his enraged rebukes) was more unpleasant than this. First Order training was thorough, he'd seen to that himself. He was confident it would prove equal to this challenge.

He allowed occasional gasps and grunts to escape as things continued, even gave a groan when the bigger one caught him squarely in the kidney with a meaty fist. He wouldn't waste energy on staying silent that could be more productively utilised - Hux considered himself to be a pragmatist after all.

He was almost disappointed when he was dragged from the room, leaving the sergeant behind. Having to retrieve his bodyguard upon escape added another detail he'd rather not have to deal with, but whingeing about unfairness or succumbing to frustration was for mewling infants. He would adapt and overcome.

Rough hands yanked the clothes from his back, seams ripping loudly under the pressure of these uncilivised brutes. They left him shivering in his underwear; the lighter-skinned one trying on his hat mockingly much to the amusement of his chum.

'Oooh, who knew the General would be so kinky!'

Huh? Hux looked at what had got the pair of imbeciles so hot and bothered, giggling like a pair of cadets seeing their first Twi'lek dancing girl, but all he saw was his socks and of course the perfectly sensible sock garters that were necessary to keep them in place. When knee-high boots were part of one's uniform, a sturdy pair of sock garters kept everything safely in place and prevented blisters. One a ship the size of Finaliser you really didn't want to develop any foot problems if remotely preventable.

'Saucy General!'

They were trying to humiliate him, but all he could wonder was how such pathetic savages even managed to dress themselves of a morning. Looking at them again Hux realised that the answer was 'with difficulty'. The intricacies of basic field-dress, let alone his own preferred parade uniforms looked to be far beyond their limited sartorial capabilities. Eventually though they realised that they were getting nowhere with him and left, presumably to fetch a grown-up to come and do their thinking for them.

Hux sighed and paced around the edges of the room. It seemed well-designed without any obvious weaknesses, but he started tapping the panelling of the walls, looking and listening for any obvious weaknesses. They were letting him stew, hoping that the beating had knocked the confidence out of him. He endeavoured not to let himself fall into that particular trap.

Hux misstepped, his previously injured left leg threatened to fail on him, the thigh muscles spasming painfully. He gritted his teeth and massaged the abused muscle with one hand, the fingers of his other hand exploring the slightly raised edge of what looked to be an electrical access panel. If he'd had his tunic on he'd have been able to pry it open in moments with the utilitool in his pockets or the knife he kept at his wrist, but he tried to get a grip on the edge with his bare fingers.

'Ah ah General!' A speaker crackled into life over the door and a teasingly self-important voice rebuked him. 'Trying to leave us so soon? We have so much to talk about!'

Amateurs! Hux loathed a lack of professionalism and when he met the owner of that voice he would take great satisfaction in dismantling them with his bare hands.

'I'll take my chances with the icy vacuum of space, thanks.' He muttered as he pressed his fingertips into the slightly protruding edge of the panel, trying to get a purchase upon it.

Pain slammed into him, every muscle in his body going into a violent spasm which flung him into the wall, driving the air from his body. That was unexpected and for a long moment all he could do was gasp for breath and try to re-gather his scattered wits.

'Pain inducer?' He guessed aloud in between ragged gasps for air. 'Aren't those forbidden under the Naboo War Laws Accord?'

'Oh, so now you're interested in playing by interplanetary law!' His tormentor hooted derisively and a booted toe dug under his hip, kicking up to fling him over onto his back. Hux grunted as the air once again left his body and his muscles continued to twitch spasmodically as little aftershocks of agony skittered along his nerves.

Of course he was interested, curious to see how low the Rebels would sink, tarnishing that vaunted moral high-ground they so loved to claim. The First Order generally tried to abide by the Accord too where reasonably practical. It was far easier to get the masses on-side when you didn't have a reputation for torture. They were here to deliver order and justice, not conquest or petty vengeance. Although if a bit of petty vengeance happened to get enacted along the way well, that was just a perk of the job.

A bootheel grinding into his sternum drew Hux out of that particular train of thought.

'So General. How much do you know about the mu omicron series of command codes?' A cheerful, mild tone that paused, possibly expecting either defiance or capitulation. An audible shrug at his silence. 'Whether it takes one hour or twenty makes no difference to me. I've all the time in the galaxy. Jeeva, Sumtu, the tray!'

Through blurred vision Hux could make out a white-robed figure standing over him with their foot resting on his chest. Whoever they were they seemed irritatingly smug. Their head was turned away to direct the two aforenamed lackeys and Hux seized his chance. He grabbed the boot on his chest in both hands, rolling sideways to get purchase and knock them off balance. He twisted viciously, turning the whole foot anti-clockwise. 

He felt something give, a ligament or tendon perhaps before his torturer yanked their foot from his grasp and lurched backward out of range, arms windmilling frantically as they tried to regain their balance. A hiss of pain told him he'd been successful before the agony hit, smashing into him like an out of control skimmer.

'Hit him with it again! Pfaasker deserves it!'

'We need the codes first, remember. We can't kill him yet and he looks like another'd see him off.'

Hux came to the realisation that he was conscious, but unable to see. Everything was pain and his world quaked crazily with the misfiring of his abused nerves. His tolerance had obviously reduced since last time he'd done this in trainng. The next strike would probably knock him out, possibly put him in a coma if he were really unlucky. Yes, he could be couldn't he? There'd been a recruit nick-named Lucky at the Academy. He'd been killed when Rebel suiciders had downed Maven. What was he doing here? Everything hurt. Oh wait, the mission, yes. Always the mission.

'Is he still breathing? Something poked him again, setting another chain reaction of agonizing muscle spasms that sent his body flopping about the room like a landed fish until it settled back down into painful quivering.

Hux tried to control his breathing and grasped that thought. The mission. The mission was important. Grasp that calm focus, just like coming back around in Medbay after miscalculating one's exhaustion levels. Too much to do to listen to the stupid medical droids. He managed to focus on one hand, pressed it against the ground and concluded he was sprawled on his belly. Good, three, two, one! He pushed up onto all fours as a preface to standing, but a slap sent him back to the floor, left cheek burning hot.

'Don't bother, General. You're where you belong.' Metal clinked against metal, the sound getting louder as it came towards him. 'Which should I start with?'

Hux realised with a start that they were actually trying to show him the instruments! If he died here it would be at the hands of antiquated imbeciles whose interrogation techniques hadn't even made it into the atomic age. The laugh he couldn't quite suppress sounded alarmingly wet and since he still couldn't see a karking thing he hazarded a guess as to the tray's contents.

'How a little bit of the lash to get us started?' He smiled with satisfaction as he finally realised where he recognised that voice from. 'But traitors always get flogged first, McKeeran.'

'You always did think you were too pfaasking clever for the rest of us, Armitage!' That had touched a nerve then. Hux blinked, trying to arrange his features into an approximation of indifference as he was hauled upright, then pushed up against the wall, hands stretched above his head. Stress positions. Wonderful.

On the positive side he thought the blackness of his vision might be starting to lighten, it had always taken a good twenty minutes to return in training, but he wasn't entirely sure he was capable of accurate timekeeping at the moment.

'Hands stay up, Hux. I'm sure you remember the repercussions otherwise.'

They weren't even restraining him? Given the full-body spasms wracking his frame he supposed that he didn't look like much of a threat at the moment, but understandable though the Rebels' decision was, it was still idiotic and he intended to allow them to find that out in fatal fashion.

Floggings had been slightly more ubiquitous than bread and butter at the Academy, doled out for any and indeed no infraction. Unlike the Pain Inducer, one could also develop strategies for coping and functioning with the pain. The first blow landed, setting his shoulders aflame, a good, clean pain that sparkled off the bass notes of muscular ache the Pain Inducer had left behind.

McKeeran was going for it, lash after lash landing irregularly and Hux felt his singlet becoming damp.The sound of panting filled the air and he realised with surprise that he couldn't tell whether it was he or McKeeran breathing hard.

'Hands up!' McKeeran' barked order startled him and he hissed at the pain that fired up across his whole back and shoulders.

Shoulders screaming in agony Hux gave a grunt and forced himself to obey, blinking furiously to try and hasten the return of his sight. He wasn't sure if it was helping, but he did it anyway.

The agony continued, time measured out in hot cubits of pain across his hide and Hux gritted his teeth, digging deeper and deeper to find the determination to endure.

At last McKeeran stumbled; flogging someone that enthusiastically was tiring after all and McKeeran had never been the fittest of recruits. Hux seized his chance nd whirled on the spot, diving at the implement tray and coming up with his own monomolecular dagger.

It slid easily through the flogger McKeeran brought up in a futile defensive block and he cut the traitor's throat, spinning around to use the corpse as a shield against the two heavies' blaster fire.

He hurled the corpse toward them, swung the dagger cross-body and scooped up McKeeran's blaster from the corpse with his free hand. The fatter one got off a shot before his blade found her throat, the bolt catching him on the thigh.

A glance at the chrono told him they'd had him for almost four hours. Well, the mission wouldn't complete itself, so he'd better get a move on.

They hadn't taken his clothes far, he found them in the antechamber outside his interrogation room as he shot the Rebel Major trying to raise the alarm.

'Boss!' He didn't get to say another word before crumpling over the comm in death.

Hux dressed as fast as possible and checked the monitors, ah, the Sergeant was three rooms down. Hux checked the desk drawers and stole all the datacubes he found in there, then picked up another blaster. Time to collect the sergeant and make their escape. When he got back to Finaliser Major Murtagh was going to see the wrong end of his wrath.

He hissed as his rapid movements ground layers of fabric across his cut, bruised and hypersensitised flesh, but no-one alive was present to witness the undignified moment. Thank the Maker for small mercies.


	3. Chapter 3

'Any news of the General yet?' Major Duli asked, trying not to fidget too obviously. General Yentl on Harbinger was acting fleet commander in his absence, but Finaliser fell to her and it might be everything she'd wanted, but she'd hoped Hux would be promoted out of the post rather than getting it due to him being MIA, assumed KIA. For one, morale wouldn't be in the doldrums. She missed her usual post on the internal secondary bridge with her own staff of trusted officers who weren't in shock about Hux's death. She'd also hoped for a handover, but that wasn't the way things had panned out.

Captain Oo on the comms desk looked up and shook their head. 'Not yet and he'd have to do an awful lot of damage to the rebel battleship for them to risk breaking radio silence.' They were monitoring it anyway - this was the General, if he were still alive he'd be certain to try and take the Rebel fleet down, with his bare hands if necessary.

Major Duli nodded approvingly and looked to her own monitors.

These kriffing tremors were making it very tricky to persuade the door lock of interrogation room 5 to open. He'd done the course several years ago and fortunately the locks on this destroyer were antiques, well within his ability, assuming he could keep his karking hands steady.

The door opened with a click and the guard looked up with a smile as i expecting to be relieved only for Hux to shoot him in the head. he sound alerted the interrogator who turned around. 'What's the...'

The tetchy question was cut short by another shot to the head. 'Trooper.'

'Sir.' He struggled a little at the cuffs restraining him before realising that saluting was going to have to wait.

Hux found the correct keys on the torturer's body and set to freeing his only ally on this ship of rebel scum. 'What's your status, RY5231?'

'Nerves are shot, sir. They gave me a couple of rounds of the Pain Inducer and then hit me with a stick for a bit before they got to the breaking fingers, which where you came in.' As his hands were freed he saluted and Hux could see the little finger was crooked and swollen.

'First aid then.' As he retrieved retrieved a very well-stocked medkit from just outside the door RY5231 had looted a blaster and a heavy-looking dagger from one of the corpses. 'Are you allergic to Perigen? It's about the only painkiller in here that's useable and unlikely to knock you out.'

'No stimpaks?' RY5231 sounded disappointed.

Hux gave a snort as he unearthed a small glass bottle from the false bottom of the case. 'No, but there is tihaar, bacta spray and patches.'

Hux sprayed 5231's hands with bacta, then taped both broken pinky fingers to the adjacent ring fingers, finishing up by slapping a perigen derm on each of them.

'Wh... what about you Sir?' RY5231 plucked up the courage to question his CO, realising that the General's complexion wasn't usually that grey. None of the paler-skinned troopers had ever gone that particular shade, so it probably wasn't a good sign. Unless that was normal for orange-haired people.

Hux's mouth tightened and he tensed, unwilling to show weakness, but with no guarantee of rescue and an unknown number of enemies to destroy.... 'Get the bacta spray.'

Blood was slowly crusting through the back of his tunic as Hux crept along the long corridor of the enemy destroyer, heading for the emergency ladder and vent system. The ship design seemed for be fairly conventional, a Corruscant system design originally if memory served correct. Crystalline lights haloed his vision and he shook his head angrily. There was no time for that nonsense!

He opened the waist-high hatch at the end of the corridor and slipped through, noting the deck number painted on the inside, Sloppy, they hadn't planned upon being infiltrated by the Order.

'The armoury ought to be on deck 12.'

'Is this the space between quadrants?'

'A bulkhead?' Hux replied with the correct term. 'Yes, so just pray the ship doesn't get hit while we're in here.'

5231 practically scurried up the ladder, horrifyingly aware of the single layer of durasteel between them and the oblivion of hard vacuum.

'Indeed. It's not what I'd call over-engineered.' Hux agreed, starting up the five deck's worth of laddering between them and deck 12. 

'I'm never going to complain about Finaliser's lifts again.' 5231 moaned in between gasps for breath. Two metres below him, hanging on for grim death Hux concurred. His injured arm throbbed, but as they reached the hatch marked '12' he patted 5231's boot and indicated for him to continue climbing upwards. If the corpses had been discovered then they'd have the obvious routes to the armoury guarded. A downward attack would be less likely to be anticipated, even if an extra deck's worth of climbing exacted a harsh toll on already weakened bodies.

'We're going to need rations, Sir.' I don't think all of this shaking is due to the pain whatsit karking up my nerves.' 5231 was getting bolder, evidently realising that in the circumstances under which they found themselves, Hux was unlikely to execute him on the spot for insubordination. Probably.

Hux grunted softly in agreement, a mug of steaming caf and a nutribar wouldn't go amiss, now the trooper mentioned it, but first things first, the armoury.

He gestured for 5231 to crawl over the top of the ladder and across into the very narrow crawl-space between the decks, each deck internally mounted and able to be individually isolated in the event of a hull breach. The hatch downwards they stopped at was actually labelled 'Armoury'. Imbeciles.

'You go first, I'll cover you.'

5231 nodded, drawing his stolen dagger. Squeezing along the crawl-space might have been easier for the General, but RY5231 was built for CQC.

He settled next to the hatch and held up one hand, counting down the fingers, then hauled the hatch open with a swift motion and dropped through, practically landing on the shoulders of the first guard. Hux leant down through the hatch to pick off the other guard as he reached for an obvious panic button.

'Bollocks!' Hux cursed as he misjudged the shot and the guard fell forward onto the alarm button, activating it. Beneath him, 5231 echoed the curse with a particular vernacular expression Hux hadn't heard in years. He wanted to giggle - his bridge crew took great pains to not even use minced oaths in his presence, let alone having a good swear in his hearing range. He couldn't tell whether it was from fear, respect or concern for any delicate sensibilities they thought he might have. He grasped the edge of the hatch with his left hand, grimacing at the pain it caused, but unwilling to relinquish the element of surprise dangling from the ceiling gave him.

'Don't let them get the armoury!' A roar came from outside the room they were in.

'Too late, dickheads.' RY5231 muttered, wiping off his dagger and readying his blaster. Suddenly his attention was caught. 'Oooh! Grenades!' His voice was childishly full of glee at the discovery and Hux allowed himself a grim smile.

'Excellent. Wait for enough of their troops to gether to make them really effective. If we kill off enough blaster-fodder they'll let us kill their elites soon enough and save us the effort of having to find them.'

'I can see why Captain Phasma gets on so well with you, Sir.'

Ah, 5231 was expecting to go straight into reconditioning, that explained the less than circumspect attitude. 'I knew she'd give me someone useful on this mission. Let's kill every last womprat-kriffing rebel on this pathetic ship.' Ah, the painkillers were combining with the second dose of combat stims. He was going to need a good shift's sleep at some point, preferably before the inevitable psychotic break.

Booted footsteps heralded the arrival of reinforcements and all conversation ceased as they returned to the matter at hand.

'Now!' Hux yelled over the tumult, breath coming hard with exertion. Phasma's troopers were highly trained and had excellent hand-eye coordination. 5231 threw the grenade out over the heads of the attackers and dived for cover as Hux pulled himself back up into the bulkhead. As he got out of range Hux hoped the armourers were a damn' sight better at their jobs than the interrogators, otherwise they might just have blown up the whole ship. Which would be a pleasing military victory, but one he hoped not to gain at the cost of his own life.

He swung back down, hanging by his knees to pick off anyone still standing.

'Anyone catch the plate of that speeder?' RY5231 struggled upright, wiping the blood that had started seeping from one ear. He looked up to see the General dangling from the ceiling like one of those nocturnal bird-thingies, um, cherts. With a weirdly graceful motion the General jumped down in a flurry of big, stupid overcoat. Oh yeah, he'd exploded the armoury and a bunch of Rebel scum.

Hux grabbed the wrist of one of the dead and slapped their limp hand onto the security scanner. The vault clicked open and he seized a set of webbing, stuffing grenades and explosives into the pouches. 5231 joined in and began showing charge-packs, grenades and explosives into a duffel bag he picked up. Hux nodded in satisfaction and unsheathed his monofilament knife severing the more important-looking corpses' hands, stuffing them into a large thigh-pouch in the webbing. Hopefully they'd bagged some sufficiently-high-ranking Rebels that they had more access now. With a look around he scooped up the datacubes he found lying around and then straightened up, 'Right, help me move this lot.' Hux gestured to the pile of mangled corpses and together they stacked the bodies, concealing the handless ones at the bottom of the heap. 

He dusted his hands off. 'Lunch, then cripple their engines?'

It wasn't a suggestion in spite of the almost absentmindedly calm tone of voice. 5231 saluted and promptly located a fully-functional kitchen. 'I'm starving, I hope they do those ration bars with the dried fruit and sprinkles.'


	4. Chapter 4

Hux poured a mug of hot caf while the stormtrooper ransacked the small galley they found themselves in. While 5231 tucked into several ration bars, delightedly comparing the flavours with the ones available 'back home on Finaliser', Hux downed a snack-pack of nutrient paste, swallowing it down with an effort of will. He'd never been one to feel hungry when things got busy, but the middle of enemy territory was the last place he wanted to faint. At least the caf was equally foul here as on Finaliser, he didn't think his system could cope with the shock of palatable caf.

Eventually 5231 wiped his mouth and neatly disposed of his food wrappers. 'Engines?'

Hux hoped the explosives they had were sufficient for the task, crippling an enemy destroyer would advance their cause and doing it this way would minimise the First Order's expenditure of resources. Sooner or later the rebellion would run out of supplies, weaponry or allies.

'The power plant should be centrally located, cripple that first and the engines will be purely decorative.'

'Yes sir!' RY5231 saluted and readied the large, heavy-duty blaster he'd picked up in the armoury.

Major Duli was roused from a sound sleep by her comm. 'Duli here.' She mumbled, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

'Lieutenant Mitaka here, Sir. We're receiving transmissions from the Rebel destroyer, distress signals specifially.'

'I'll be on bridge in five, send an update to my tab.' Spirits of space she was knackered, a mere thirty hours into her acting-generalhood. No wonder Hux was so grouchy all the time! 

She dressed as fast as she could, walking briskly to the bridge while still fastening her tunic.

Mitaka looked up as the Acting-General swooped in and felt an absurd shock that she wasn't General Hux. 'General.' He handed her a spare earpiece to allow her to listen into the broadcast.

'Engines crippled... We're broadcasting on emergency systems, life support has failed in the entire aft section... Mayday... Mayday...' The crackly repeating message was interrupted by a frantic voice.

'Please help! We're being attacked by the First Order!'

A blaster shot, louder than the previous background ruckus cut the voice off. 'Tha's bollocks that is mate! They captured and tortured us first!' The mic picked up the distinctive tones of a Couronne-accented voice, thick with indignation.

'Quite, but stop whingeing and help me get these hangar bay doors open.' An Imperial-accented voice replied, so full of tetchy exasperation that the two listeners shared a look and huffed a laugh they couldn't quite suppress.

An explosion too close to the broadcast array made them both hiss in pain and Duli yanked the ear-piece out. 'Lieutenant Mitaka, get a navigational update on that destroyer's location.' She turned to Capitain Fleek. 'Have Captain Phasma mobilise a boarding party, Hangar Three to take-off in one hour.' She switched to her comm. 

'Shore Squadron, your orders are being sent through now, Flight Lieutenant Zbreznie will pilot the lander for the Storntrooper mission. Squadron TIE fighters to scramble and escort.' She listened to the questions and responded crisply with the necessary details.

Not bad, Mitaka thought to himself. Her immediate loyalty to either the Order or to Hux himself shown by the lack of hesitation in choosing to retrieve put her leagues ahead of Murtagh. It would be good to have the General back, but he could have done far worse, when it came to temporary replacements.

'I will go as well. The Supreme Leader wishes to ensure that the General was not damaged in the course of his mission.' 

Lieutenant Mitaka nearly jumped out of his skin at Lord Ren's appearance and his heart rate spiked in fear.

Acting-Major Duli flinched, fear in her eyes, but she pulled herself together. She'd be back to the comforting familiarity of the secondary bridge soon enough, she could put up with this for a little longer. 'In which case, my Lord, I would suggest that you make your way to Hangar Three to liaise with Captain Phasma.'

She received a grunt in response and he whirled away, striding off in a flurry of voluminous black robes. Even with the terror clouding her mind, she couldn't help but think 'those things are a hazard, he's going to get snagged on something one of these cycles swooping about in that much excess fabric' and also a relieved 'he didn't choke me!'.

Hux primed a grenade and casually dropped it down a vent as they moved toward the hangar level. His pockets bulged with datacubes collected from the bridge. Hopefully they'd prove useful to MILIntel.

'Where'd that lead?'

He shrugged, the weight of his greatcoat and webbing making the gesture laboured. 'I'm not quite sure, either waste disposal or storage. Nonetheless it keeps them on their toes, chasing the trail of damage rather than us.'

'Makes sense.' RY5231 stole a look at the General out of the corner of his eye, starting to feel a little concerned about how exhausted the man looked, in spite of the way he'd just shot a rebel who'd been about to clock 5231. Those were good reflexes, but how long would he be that alert for? Maker knew 5231 felt shattered and his back wasn't a mess of bloody broken skin. He didn't usually have to worry about anything other than following orders, let alone think about keeping another person alive. This was hard.

Pounding bootsteps alerted them to the approach of yet more enemies. As one they ducked into an alcove, then waited for the squad to turn the corner. Hux jerked the barrel of his blaster imperatively and they leapt out, ambushing he squad who fumbled for their holstered weapons, dying with panic in their eyes.

Hux unlocked a random door, which turned out to be a storage room the owner of one of his severed hands had had access to and he stood watch as 5231 dragged the corpses into it and tidied up.

'Once we attack the main hangar it'll attract the attention of whatever remaining forces they have.' Hux looked up to RY5231 as he plastered more dermal doses of perigen onto them both, making sure hey were as physically fit for the task ahead as possible.

RY5231 shrugged. 'Saves us having to hunt 'em down all over this kriffing stupid heap of bolts.'

The grim optimism of that statement was oddly refreshing and Hux felt the sides of his mouth twitch. Pfaask, the combination of bloodloss, exhaustion and painkillers was making him feel loopy. He tried to pull himself together.

Mitaka would have caught the emergency broadcast, he'd set the ship's comms up to repeat it on a loop for as long as power remained, so Phasma was probably on her way and moving faster than the inertia carrying the destroyer further away from Finaliser. The only question was whether she'd be collecting them or their mangled corpses.

'Indeed. Let's go and open the door for Captain Phasma. Really, the only problem I can foresee with the current plan is how cross she's going to be if we succeed in killing everyone before she arrives.'

'That's a pretty krffing big problem, Sir. Captain's got a temper on her.'

'Story of my life, Trooper.' Hux sighed, vision wavering as he pushed off from the wall.

RY5231 sniggered at the General's long-suffering tone, he was starting to see why the Finaliser's officers were so loyal to him. He was almost as good as Captain Phasma, and him one of them decorative bridge officers and all! 5231 raised his blaster and broke into a trot to catch up to the General.

Hux rummaged through his big pocket of disembodied hands, slapping one after another onto the access pad. He frowned, had they found the pile of bodies and revoked their access to prevent him doing this? Fortunately the fourth one worked and he breathed a sigh of relief, the bodies hadn't been discovered. He'd been worried for a moment that someone intelligent had become involved and had locked the whole place down.

They split up in the vast hangar and Hux signalled RY5231 to begin setting explosive charges to as many fighters as possible, Ideally they'd destroy everything, but given the limited quantity of explosives they'd been able to carry, the fighters were the most immediate priority.

The charges were of a fairly standard design, either stolen from First Order supplies or manufactured to the same basic specification. He ducked under the engine of the first X-wing, placing the charge in close proximity to the fuel tank. He froze in place as a droid and a harassed-looking mechanic trotted past, deep in technical conversation.

He moved swiftly and stealthily from one fighter to another until he ran out of explosives. Hopefully he'd set them correctly to cause a chain reaction and it would destroy more than just the ships he'd targeted. He retreated into a partially-covered inspection pit, looked around for RY5231 and saw that he was safely out of the way, so hit the trigger-switch.

He clapped his palms over his ears, wincing at the sheer volume and only able to guess at the magnitude of the explosion happening over his head. The silence after was deafening, making his chest feel like a hollow cavity. He climbed back out of the pit laboriously and his eyes widened at the sight of the devastation they had wrought. Across the hangar, RY5231 popped up from his own inspection pit, looking as startled as Hux felt. 

As Hux met the Trooper's eye his expression turned to horror and Hux reacted instantly, letting himself topple back into the pit as blaster bolts shot across the area of space he'd just been occupying. Hux fumbled in his webbing and blindly tossed a grenade at the approximate direction he deduced the blaster fire had come from. He winced as the explosion triggered a secondary explosion, the percussive force of which caused his headache to spike, vision wobbling for a moment.

He hauled himself back up the small ladder out of the pit again and grimaced at the soot and gore-soaked area that had contained both a fuel-dump and the rebel fighters who'd nearly shot him. The brief surge of adrenaline had been burnt through and all he felt was bone-weary. Well, that and the pain of his injuries. Phasma had better turn up PDQ. When had he last slept anyway? Shouldn't the last dose of combat stims still be working?

'Y'alright boss?' RY5231 arrived at his side, giving him a strange look.

'The mission still stands, we will prevail, Trooper! Hold fast and put down every last one of them that dares show their face! They will learn to respect the First Order!' He was pretty sure he'd used that paragraph in a speech in last month's propaganda viscast, but the familiar rage against those rebel scum reignited with it, stiffening his flagging posture. He suspected he looked dishevelled and unhinged, but RY5231 followed his lead and straightened up, giving him a crisp salute.

'Yes Sir!'

'Help me drag that tool-bench over. We'll set up a defensive position in case there's anyone left.'

'They've opened the door for us.' Phasma remarked cheerily, cocking her blaster ready to mow down some Rebel scum.

Kylo Ren swooped his Tie fighter into the hangar ahead of the lander, strafing the straggly rebel line assembled at the far end of the space. He set the craft down adroitly and disembarked, igniting his lightsaber.

Hux took advantage of Ren's distracting appearance to squeeze off another volley of blaster bolts three down, eight to go.  
Kylo deflected a blaster bolt back at the firer, killing them with their own shot. His robes fluttered around him like vast wings and he felt their already frightened minds ignite into terror. He grinned behind his mask, savouring the power he held over these puny fools.

Hux straightened up and strode over t the remnants of the rebel line. Kylo looked up from the corpse he was prodding with his booted foot at the sound of someone approaching.

Hux's hair hung in limp strands, falling into his eyes and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The usual prissy indifference was gone from his face, replaced by a burning intensity Kylo suddenly wished could be turned upon him. Yikes. He felt glad his robes concealed what was going on below his belt. Force alive, he looked hotter than plasma like that!

'What are you looking at, Ren?'

And the threatening erection wilted like that time his Mum had walked in on him with that seedy holovid he'd borrowed off of Poe who'd borrowed it off...

A blaster firing jolted him back to the present and he saw Hux checking that the rest of the corpses were really dead. Ren shook his head to banish that train of thought and fixed a sneer onto his face beneth the mercifully concealing mask.

'So you managed to survive, General? The Supreme Leader will be pleased, think of all the paperwork your demise would have generated.'

Hux resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 'Imagine, and you'd be the one saddled with it in my absence. He gave a tight, humourless smile. 'Given your patience for administrivia, I should think the Knights of Ren would have come as my personal guard had you had the last say.'  
Kylo resisted the urge to force-choke the jumped-up paper-pusher, but onyly by taking out his frustrations on the corpses at his feet.

'RY5231 reporting for duty, Captain!'

'Get to the medidroid, RY5231.' Phasma looked him over with an approving nod. He'd survived, as someone as highly trained as her troopers ought. 'KL6485, place charges.'

She joined Ren and Hux, looking the latter over obviously. 'A little overzealous there, General?'

'Nothing more than they deserved, Captain. I must commend RY5231, he didn't get under my feet at all. I can only apologise that I didn't leave much for you to do. It seems that military intelligence overestimated the capabilities of this ship. I shall make note of it in my report.'

'Indeed, Sir.' She nodded subtly towards the ship, fell into step beside him as he strode towards it, stride not faltering even as his left leg threatened to give out under his weight. Show no weakness.

As they sat in the cockpit on the return journey she removed her helmet and treated him to a satisfied smile. 'You returned RY5231 in surprisingly good condition. I shall let you borrow my troopers again, should the need arise.'

'Most generous.' He responded with a civil nod that made her grin widely.

'Really Ren, I'm quite capable of making it to Medbay unsupervised.'

Kylo stood too close to the General, enjoying being the cause of his annoance. 'Just following the Supreme Leader's orders, General. It would be very undignified if you keeled over in the middle of a random corridor.'

Hux narrowed his eyes at the infernal force-user who apparently lived to vex him. Smoke didn't give a two-credit fart for his dignity and they both knew that full well. He'd rather it was Phasma with him as he trudged towards the medbay. At least when he collapsed in her presence she just scooped him up, dropped him into bed and kept her mouth shut. He'd never hear the end of it if he fainted in Ren's presence. He gritted his teeth and willed away the darkness that crowded at the edges of his vision.   
Less than a kilometer to the lift.

Droids twittered around him as he entered the Medbay and Hux had no patience left for them. He shouldered off his coat, letting it drop behind him as he headed through to the small room they always allocated him when need arose. He heard a curse behind him as Ren tripped on the discarded garment and gave into the temptation this time to roll his eyes. Force-enhanced reflexes, really.

Kylo swore as he shoved through the door, then froze as he watched Hux drop the rest of his uniform on the floor by the bed, then collapse face-first into the bed with a resonant, practically pornographic moan.

Every muscle in his body went limp as Hux finally surrendered to his body's screaming need for sleep. 'Oh pfaask that's...' The entrance trailed off into soft breaths and Kylo Ren blinked, then reached out with the Force to gently shift Hux's unconscious, bloodied body into a position where he wasn't in imminent danger of sliding right back off the cotbed.

That was weird. He needed a cold shower and to meditate. Lot of meditation, but a cold shower first. Yes. And no thinking of the General when he was in there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here endeth the 'Die Hard on a Spaceship' fic I never expected to write! Along with a bonus inconvenient boner for the Kylux fans in the readership. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
